


Gardens

by theinklingsoftime



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And Romance, And angst, F/M, Fantasy AU, Kidge - Freeform, Magic AU, Multi, and latte, going to be long aGH, i don't know how to tag, lots of magic, possibly some shatt, some shallura and kallura and plance as well if this goes well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-17 19:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinklingsoftime/pseuds/theinklingsoftime
Summary: There's a girl in the gardens.





	1. Lilacs

He doesn’t know what makes him go out to the gardens.

It’s an unconscious urge to be near them, and if Keith, Prince of the Galra Kingdom, predestined for greatness by birth, hadn’t already been trained by the greatest and most talented sorcerers and Druids of the kingdom, he might have been worried he was under someone’s influence.

_(All members of the royal family and guard were trained against mind control, a way the Emperor feared would be eventually used to destroy him)_

He continues on his way to the gardens, all the while wondering what could possess him to even think about that place.

It’s literally just weeds; some taller than others, some a bit more colorful, but all really just weeds.

Hardly anyone goes there anymore, except when a large ball is hosted, and a place for…indecent activities is needed for the more inebriated.

_(there are gardeners, of course, but they’re all fools with tools for digging, spending most of their time drinking the palace’s wines in the cellar)_

So it’s to his great surprise when he turns the corner and is met with the sight of a person digging into some of the purple flowers (why should he know the names? They’re just weeds) near a fountain.

“You there!” He shouts. “Who are you?”

They stand up and turn around, hands in the air.

It’s a human girl, with auburn-ish brown hair, cut around the shoulders.

Her fair skin is freckled, and her eyes….they’re mesmerizing.

Gold, with liquid amber sprinkled it, they seem to sparkle like gemstones.

He wants to stare at them for-

“Your Highness.” She bows.

“Who are you?” He demands, his heart beating a bit faster for some reason.

“They call me Pidge.” She says, still bowing. “I am a new gardener.”

“Pidge.” It rolls off his tongue. “That is a boy’s name.”

She looks up, and her face is flushed. “I find it easier with a boy’s name. It attracts less attention out in the…rougher parts of the kingdom.”

“You’ve already been briefed?” He asks.

He does not want this little human-with-a-male’s-name messing up the gardens.

She nods.

“Attend to the roses then. The last gardener all but killed them.”

The girl nods. “As you wish, mi'lord.”

And as he walks away, it’s so very hard not to turn around and continue to stare into her eyes.

 _Bah_ , he thinks and continues walking back to the throne room. _You’re turning soft_.

( _softness is not tolerated in court_ )

* * *

The next time he sees the gardens, the purple flowers near the fountain catch his eye.

They are full and purple, seemingly sparkling, the colors weaving in and out of each little petal.

And then he looks closer and the light moves and they look like normal flowers again. 


	2. Petunias

A week passes before he sees her again.

War councils have become more frequent, as their armies have encountered trouble to the southern borders, where the Alteans have recaptured the Balmera mines.

( _he goes to every meeting in that deep, dark hall, illuminated only by the occasional flickering green flames, signaling the presence of the High Druids)_

_(he knows deep down he’ll never be king)_

_(but he can still take his place beside his cousin and father and dream, can he not)_

He finally decides to take a break one afternoon, and his traitorous feet carry him to the west wing of the palace.

He’s passing by a window when he sees her.

She’s kneeling, knee-deep in weeds, gently caressing the leaves of some pink plant.

_(why is she caring for weeds)_

_(specific instructions were given about the roses)_

So it’s this flimsy excuse he grasps like a rope out at sea when he slowly walks towards her, the willows lining his path swaying gently in the breeze.

She doesn’t hear him approach, and so he watches her for a while, perhaps a few feet away, standing under one of the trees.

She stands up, brushing her hands on her skirt, and turns around, eyes widening as she sees him.

She drops to the ground. “I’m sorry, milord, I did not see you.” Her eyes are downcast.

“I thought I told you to tend to the roses.” He says, voice icy. “Why are you wasting time on-,” He pokes the pink weeds with his toe, “-weeds such as these.”

The girl ( _Pidge_ , he reminds himself; and then tries to forget, because who is he to remember servants’ names) looks up. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but these are not weeds.”

He frowns. “ _The roses_ , I recall, need attention _.”_

She stands up straight. “Your Highness, these are petunias. They are not weeds. I was given instructions to tend to the gardens, and so I am.”

Keith narrows his eyes. “Are you disobeying my orders?”

Her hands clench into fists. “I was told by my superiors to tend to the gardens as a whole. These are flowers, therefore my orders apply.”

“ _I_  AM YOUR SUPERIOR!” Keith thunders, his voice echoing through the gardens.

“HOW CAN YOU BE MY SUPERIOR IF YOU THINK EVERY FLOWER IS A WEED?” She shouts back, and then slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“Your Highness?” Someone calls, and Ilumn, one of his father’s personal stewards, bustles toward them. “You are needed in the War Room.”

Keith nods stiffly, and turns to the girl.

“I expect the roses to be tended to the next time I am here.” He says coldly, and her eyes burn, seemingly with hatred.

Somehow, Keith relishes the sight.

_(it really makes no sense)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's getting started guys...... ;)


	3. Daffodils

Keith has been summoned to the King’s chambers when they meet for the third time.

He’s walking purposefully, one foot in front of another when he goes past the windows again and sees the girl ( _yes, he will keep calling her “the girl”, he does not need to use her name, he is far too important for that)_ leaning over the well, trying to reach some yellow flowers growing on the other side.

“You there!” He shouts angrily ( _the roses are in need of tending, dammit, why does she keep insisting on)_ , and the girl’s head shoots up, and she falls in.

_is he that terrifying_

Keith’s eyes bug out, and he rushes toward the nearest opening.

_is she_

He races toward the well, and looks down.

She’s floating in the bottom, face-down, and he curses. 

_dammit_

He strips, dropping his military-standard jacket (which he somehow has even though he has never been to the front; it seems to be the fashion for some reason, among the court, to have completely spot-and-stainless military clothes, like you actually fight, instead of sit on gilded thrones) and shucking off his boots, and leans over again.

This time, however, he realizes it wasn’t just pure terror that caused her to fall in: the grass is wet.

And he realizes this just as he slips and trips and falls in as well, landing with a tremendous splash right next to the girl.

He surfaces, coughing up water as he looks around. 

It’s got to be at least fifteen feet to the opening, and he barely pushes five foot six.

The feeling of something on his arm makes him jolt, and he’s reminded of the other body in the water.

He turns the girl over with some difficulty, and tries to feel for a pulse.

_he might be doing it wrong, but she’s as cold as a rock_

He tries pumping her chest, but he was never really good at this sort of stuff even when his tutor was sober enough to review basic procedures for this type of situation, so he has no idea if it’s working or not.

After several tries, he is reminded something one of the servants said in passing  _(something about someone in the nearby river)_. The way he remembers it, more vulgar terms were used, but he’s desperate ( _he has no idea why, it’s just a servant girl)._

_well, someone’s got to tend to the roses_

So he tilts the girl’s head back, pinches her nostrils shut, and presses his mouth to hers.

_he’s not expecting it to work_

_at all_

So it’s a surprise when she suddenly jolts upward and slams her face into his.

“Agh!” He cries, and cups his nose. He can already feel blood dripping down his chin.

_the bitch_

She flounders a bit, hacking up mouthfuls of water. When she’s finished emptying her lungs, she turns to him, eyes watering.

“W-what are you doing?” She says angrily.

“Saving your life!” He retorts, voice muffled through his hand. “And look what you’ve done!” 

She gasps, and reaches for his face. “Your Highness, I-,”

He waves her off. “I’m fine. We’ve got bigger problems to worry about.”

She swipes her nose, which is running as well for some reason, and looks around. “W-where am I?”

Keith looks around as well, a sullen expression on his face. “It’s no use. We’re at least fifteen feet down.”

The girl swallows. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I said, it’s fine.” He puffs out a blast of air. “So, were they worth it?”

The girl frowns. “What?”

“Those yellow flowers. The ones you were reaching for.”

The girl’s eyes brighten in understanding. “The daffodils?”

He sniffs. “So that’s what they’re called.”

She glares. “At least you didn’t call them weeds this time.”

He glares back. “So, were they worth it? All of this?” He motions all around. “Because now we’re  _stuck_  in this hellhole, and it’s all your fault!”

“My fault?” Her voice raises. “You were the one that yelled at me! I would have never-,”

“BECAUSE, ONCE AGAIN, YOU DISOBEYED MY INSTRUCTIONS!” He thunders.

Her mouth drops open. “AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT, YOUR HIGHNESS?” She shouts back. 

“THE ROSES!” He near screams. 

“THE ROSES, OF COURSE! THE ROSES!” She cries, and moves across the bottom of the well toward him, finger out. “WHY, WHEN YOU SEEM TO ONLY CHANCE UPON THIS PLACE ONCE IN A BLUE MOON, WHEN YOU SEEM TO NOT CARE ABOUT THIS, THIS GARDEN OF WEEDS, AS YOU SEEM TO KNOW IT, DO YOU CARE SO MUCH ABOUT SOME DAMN ROSES?” She yells. 

Her words echo up, up into the free air, and Keith is quiet.

It’s when he looks up that she swallows. “I am sorry, I meant no-,”

“I admit, it was unfair of me.” He says, avoiding her gaze again. “To blame you, I mean.”

She gulped. “It was not my place, I-,”

“My mother.” He cuts her off, and she looks confused. “Excuse me?”

“My mother.” He replies. “The reason why I-how did you put it? Care so much about the damn roses.”

Her face is red  _(red as the roses, he thinks for a second). “_ Your Highness, I-,”

“My mother-she was born here, but she grew up in one of the Southern kingdoms. This was when the war was just beginning-the emperor had just attacked Altea for the first time. It was not safe. So she lived in the south for quite some time, where she was betrothed to my father. He came to claim her and bring her back when she came of age, but-,” He shook his head. “She did not want to come. So she brought the roses with her, to remind her of her second home. In the south, the roses were thought to be the blood of the gods, fallen down during their great battles.”

The girl is quiet, and he turns away, thoroughly regretting everything he said when he hears-

“I lost my brother in the war.”

He looks at her, and she’s staring up into the sky. “It was my fault, really. I wasn’t thinking clearly and-,” She stopped. “Well, no use dwelling on the past.”

They were silent again.

“How d’you suppose we get out of here?” He says suddenly.

_he told the story to prove a point_

_but now, it seemed, a point was being proved to him_

She looks around. “Hmmmm…..,”

* * *

“For such a tiny person, how are you so damn heavy?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Stop wriggling so much!” She ( _Pidge, he thought; what, he remembers the name she gave him)_  gripes back. “Almost-,” Her balance shifts and she comes crashing down on top of him. 

Grunting, he pushes her off. “Damn.” He sighs. “We’re stuck here forever, aren’t we?”

She swallows. “Perhaps not.” She reaches over and grips his arm. “I’m going to do something, but you cannot tell anyone. Promise?”

He rolls his eyes. “Just do it. Even if you produced a dragon out of thin air, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

She glares, and suddenly slams her hand into the wall next to him.

He freezes. “What the-,”

There’s a rumbling all around them, and suddenly the ground shakes and jolts, and they’re shot upward into the air.

Pidge  _(he still can’t get used to the idea that she has a name),_ as they’re falling towards the earth, shouts something into the wind, and it’s like he’s been dipped in freezing water, and they’re somehow lying on the grass, wheezing for breath.

It feels as though he’s been trampled by a Weblum and he struggles to sit up.

“What-,” He gasps. “Did you do?”

She’s on her knees, wiping her eyes. “Simple enlargement charm. The teleportation was tricky, I haven’t done it in so long.”

He looks at her, eyes bugged out. “You have magic.”

She meets his gaze. “You cannot tell anyone.”

_and it’s a simple enough statement_

_but there’s a threat in there as well_

“Understood.” He replies, voice even. 

“Good.” She swallows.

He stands up, wobbling a bit. With his balance restored, he offers a hand to her.

She hesitates, then grips the offered hand. He pulls her up so they are face-to-face.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He says quietly, and then stoops down, gathering his jacket and boots.

He begins to walk away. “Wait!” He hears her say, and he turns around.

“Y-your nose, Your Highness.” She says, eyes wide.

He waves her off. “I’ll be fine. I’ll go to see-,” She moves forward.

“May I see?” 

He lets her take his face into her hands, and she squints. “Your septum is deviated.”

“The druids can-,” She clasps his nose, and he yelps as hot, white pain rushes through his face.

Suddenly, the pain is gone, and the girl steps back. 

He gingerly touches his face, and finds the blood gone.

“How-,” He stops. “Thank…you.” He says instead.

She bows, and he starts walking again, but not before turning around one last time. “And tend to those roses, dammit.”

_it’s a new beginning, perhaps_

_in more ways than one_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting spic-aeeeeeee! (bet you didn't think the kiss would come from there did you *wink wink*)


	4. Forget-Me-Not

It’s when she’s digging with bare hands in the dirt, quietly stroking the roots and watching them quiver with new life, that she feels someone kneel next to her.

She turns her head, expecting another scolding from one of the head gardeners, when, to her surprise, she’s met with the violet eyes of the prince.

_he’s not the crown prince_

_just a lowly, second one_

She swallows, and it’s audible. “Your Highness-,”

“Teach me.”

And it’s so sudden that she accidentally grips a root too tightly and it withers, ends blackened.

She curses quietly, and then looks at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“Teach me.” He repeats, and she swears she can hear her own voice begging, 

_teach me, please_

She swallows. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” She turns away once more, but he grabs her wrist. Tightly.

“Magic.” He whispers. 

The air seems to grow colder with that simple utterance, and she freezes. 

“W-why do you ask this?” She says quietly.

“I need to be able to do something. They’ll never send me off to the front. I-I’m just a puppet. I…. _I need to do something._ ”

His words almost exactly mirror her own.

She shakes her head. “Magic is something one is born with. I-I cannot teach you.”

“You can.” He insists, his fingers digging into her skin so hard, a bit of blood drips from her wrist. “I-I can tell them, you know.”

And her heart plummets. 

“I wouldn’t. But….but I could.  _Please_.” He begs. “Teach me.”

And her eyes start to water, not just from the pain, but from  _how similar_ they are.

She blinks, and then nods. “I-I-,” She breaks off. “I will teach you.”

His face doesn’t quite light up, but it softens, and the pain from her wrist is eased. 

He suddenly stands up. “I will take my leave.”

And he’s gone, leaving nothing but tracks and a sinking feeling in Pidge’s stomach.

* * *

He comes at night, under the cover of darkness.

She waits by the pool.

_alone_

She watches the bluish blossoms by the water rise up their tender petals toward the pale light of the stars.

_forget-me-not_

_like she could ever forget anymore_

The moon slowly rises, and she hears footsteps. 

“You came.” He says, and she can hear the surprise in his voice.

“I said I would.” She responds simply. 

_she doesn’t need to tell him she is forever bound by word alone_

“We’ll begin by……,” She trails off.

_where do they begin_

“Energy.” She says finally. 

“What do you mean?” He questions.

“Everything in the universe is made out of energy. Magic…magic is pure energy. To bring forth this…this energy, your inner energy must be at balance.”

“How does one do this?” He asks, and she can hear his eagerness.

“You must calm yourself. Calm…there must be no indecision, no anger, no passion. Just….the pure balance. Magic users usually decide against forming relationships outside their guilds. If they have one.”

There’s a silence.

“It sounds very lonely.”

She laughs, a cold, bitter sound. “I wouldn’t put it like that exactly.”

“Were you in a guild?” He asks quietly.

And she’s about to shake her head and leave when-

“Yes.” She can’t believe the words coming out of her own mouth.

“What happened?”

It’s silent, and she can tell he knows he went too far.

“I’m so-,”

“T-there was an accident.” She sort of blurts out. “Something….happened. They all are dead.”

_she can hear the screams ringing still_

_they won’t leave her at night anymore_

“I’m sorry.” He says suddenly.

“No.” She shakes her head. “It is in the past. We must forget.”

“The past.” He says quietly. “But why would you desire to forget?”

And she takes that as her cue to leave, standing up straight and gathering her cloak about her.

“Where are you going?” She hears, and looks at him.   
  
“It does us no good to wait in the dark.” She says softly. 

And she bows.

“I bid you goodnight.”

And she leaves.

_but old memories have already been disturbed_

_and she won’t be alone tonight_

_forgetting would be a blessing_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....lovely angst, dears.


	5. Amaryllis

It’s pride that seems to guide him to her each night.

She weaves light out of thin air, seemingly pulling the stars down from the sky.

She seems older when he meets her.

_older than he will ever know_

Sometimes, she will hold fire in her palm, and he will reach for it, and she will stop him.

“Do not.” She warns. “It burns.”

And he will frown.

“I can do it.” He insists. “I’m sure.”

And he’ll see something flicker in her eyes, and the fire will go out.

“That’s enough for tonight.” And she sounds tired, more tired than he’s ever heard.

* * *

One night, he finds her sitting not under the tree but wading in the water up to her knees, leaning down to pluck a light pink flower.

He waits for her to come and sit next to him.

She does, and his gaze lands on the flower in her hand.

“What is it?” He asks.

“An amaryllis. They-they are a symbol of pride where I come from.” She says, almost wistfully. “The princess would wear them on festival days.”

_a rare show of nostalgia_

“What use does it have?” He says, a bit sullenly.

It’s a nice flower, of course.

But that is of no concern to him.

“What most do not know about the amaryllis is the fact that-,” She waves a hand over it and the color dies. 

The flower withers.

Pidge’s hand, however, seems to glow. 

She flicks her fingers, and the light flies into the air, seeming to coalesce into….petals.

“Energy.” She says softly. “It’s pure, untouched energy.”

She waves her hand, and the light spins, jumps, and then plummets into the ground.

The whole garden floor is lit up, as though the sun itself sunk into the dirt.

It’s beautiful.

* * *

Sometimes they will do nothing but sit and talk.

She tells him, however vaguely, of her home.

She speaks so passionately that he’ll see her eyes flicker like the flames she brings down from the sky.

_a home of sunlight and flowers and blue skies and powers he’ll never know_

* * *

One night, he finds her sitting on the bench, a bottle on her hand, the smell of something on her lips.

And she tells him, in slurred words, of a brother.

And of a battle.

And of a demon, fighting to get out of it’s mountain prison.

And of a slip in a shield.

And of death.

_he doesn’t know how much is the alcohol and how much is true_

Yet he carries her to the servants’ quarters quietly, and slips out like a shadow.

_there’s something there that wasn’t there before_

* * *

It’s pride, it seems, that keeps him there each night.

He tells himself that each evening, when he silently steals out into the darkness and finds her.

He tells himself that each morning, as he wakes of dreams of a girl covered in flowers, her golden eyes flashing.

He tells himself that as something inside him breaks, and he surges forward and captures her lips, pushing her against the willow tree under the light of the frozen moon.

There’s a tiny squeak that slips from her lips, and then he pulls her closer, and she relaxes into his arms.

_he can feel her heart next to his_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally a real kiss.


	6. Roses

He finds himself longing for her.

It was lust at first-he knew that.

Lust for her body, lust for her mind, lust for her voice-it was a wanting, one that haunted him late at night, when he imagined her next to him.

But it becomes…..deeper, as the months pass, and as the snow falls, and the gardens are covered in white.

They don’t meet as often.

She instead leaves him messages, texts from the Grand Library, books he’s never laid eyes on until now, full of spiraled words and promises locked away in the dark and it’s-

Almost like she’s there with him.

* * *

Time goes on.

The snow melts away, and the garden slowly blooms again.

They’re meeting again, too-but this time, she’s the one that grips him by the collar, drags him under the weeping willow by the water, and presses her lips to his.

They tangle together underneath the leaves, and she says his name over and over- “Keith, Keith, Keith”- and he holds her hand so tightly.

The petals fall as she falls asleep in his arms.

* * *

It’s been near a year, and the war shows no signs of stopping.

Neither has he produced any kind of magic.

He corners her one night, and her hands are on his, until he pulls away.

“Why has it not worked?” He says harshly. 

Her eyes are wide. “What do you mean?” She breathes.

“Why can I do nothing?” He snaps, and regrets it, his next words softer. “You promised.”

She moves back a bit. “I don’t understand.”

“Why can I not use it?” He near shouts. “You promised! You-,” He grabs her wrists, and she lets out a cry of-

_Fear?_

He lets go and stumbles back.

She’s shrunken, but when she looks up, her eyes are empty.

“You……..you can never use magic.” She says, hands quivering.

There’s a silence.

“What do you mean?” He says, voice cold.

“Only those who are born with it can.” Her voice breaks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-,”

“You lied.” 

“I didn’t mean to-,” Her hand reaches for his, and he moves away. 

“You lied.”

“I swear, I did not mean to.” She says, and though there are no tears, she seems like she’s crying. “I cannot break a promise.”

And he walks away.

_his tears are thawing slowly_

* * *

He is summoned to the war room the following morning, the green flames flickering, shadows dancing across the walls.

One of the generals has fallen in battle.

He is to replace him.

_and a dream finally becomes a reality as another dies_

He doesn’t care to say goodbye.

He leaves in two days.

* * *

She waits for him that night, alone, underneath the stars.

_she wishes it could have been different_

* * *

He is carried into the castle a month later, fresh out of a portal, sides bloody, face white.

He is strapped to a bed, eyes fluttering open and a scream, tinged with red liquid, is pulled from his mouth.

_she finds out a day after his arrival_

_he dreams of her in endless sleep_

* * *

“Milord.” He hears one day in his stupor.

_is it her_

He manages to open his eyes, and-

He sees her. 

“Y-you came.” He struggles to say.

“I am sorry.” She says quietly, and he notices in her hands a single, red rose.

He reaches out, and she grips his hand, and she leans closer and-

“I love you.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly, and he feels the gentle press of lips upon his brow.

* * *

He recovers slowly.

The pink blossoms make way for green leaves, and the air is warm.

He is wheeled out to the gardens at his command, and is left there, where she is waiting.

She presses kisses to his hands, and tells him stories of old.

* * *

One night she comes to him.

It’s like a dream-beautiful, longing, filled with things he can never remember.

And when he wakes, she is gone.

* * *

The weeks pass.

The air is tinged with the scent of autumn.

He is bitter.

* * *

And one day, when he is fully healed, walking amongst the gardens, he is summoned to the royal chambers.

“An armistice has been declared.” He is told just as the grand doors open, and a procession of none other than the enemy begins.

The stately king and the beautiful Princess sweep in gracefully, and the court follows.

And it’s only until his eyes is caught by the brown hair so much like the falling leaves, eyes golden, that he finally feels his heart shatter like glass.

_it’s her_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the end of Arc One. Hope you enjoyed! Arc Two will be up soon; Find me on Tumblr @theinklingsoftime.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I finally posted this on here. (if you like it, well there's a whole lot more to come XD) 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @the inklingsoftime.


End file.
